This book isn't exactly what it purports to be. The synopsis and first 50-100 pages or so would lead you to believe that this book is about cellphonesThis book isn't exactly what it purports to be. The synopsis and first 50-100 pages or so would lead you to believe that this book is about cellphones turning everyone who used them into zombies of the 28 Days Later variety--fast, rage-filled monsters who feel virtually no pain. Awesome, right?
Well, not so fast. As the novel progresses, the cellphone "zombies" or "phone-crazies" as they are referred to in the book, transform into something else...something much more weird and, honestly, kind of boring. Instead of being the George Romero/fast zombie hybrid that they initially appeared, these zombies turn into some sort of weird telepathic group of psychics. In King's defense, he makes this shift gradually and subtly, so you don't even realize how turned off to the whole idea you are until you're so deep and engrossed in the novel that you want to find out what happens anyway. It seems to me that King had a great idea for a short story--cellphones literally turning people into zombies--but then sort of didn't know where to go from there with it, so he fell back onto the whole supernatural thing with a half-assed (and, from what little knowledge of computers and anatomy I possess, completely implausible) explanation for the whole thing. The book starts off with a bang, and steadily loses momentum from there. I'm not sure how he could've ended a short story version of Cell without leaving a lot of loose ends, but it would've probably made for a better story...or at least more bang for your buck.
Another major problem I have with this book, and I suppose Stephen King in general, is that every character seems to be some version of Stephen King. I've read King's column in Entertainment Weekly (not a huge fan), and in it he comes across as someone's dorky dad who knows that he's older and not hip per se, but was extremely hip in his day, and considers his day the be all and end all of pop-culture, so, yeah, he's basically still hip. You just don't know it. It has a certain charm to it, but is also sort of exasperating, because his tastes are either ridiculously obscure or painfully mainstream, and seemingly tossed off just to show that he's still with it, even though no one actually enjoys the mainstream crap he's espousing.
But I digress. My point is that I can see King's main character, Clay Riddell, a graphic novelist from upstate Maine and the King stand-in for this story, saying "Thus spake fuckin' Zarathustra" in response to an existential question. What I can't see is a 15 year old girl from the suburbs of Boston "laugh[ing] until she cried." (p.123). Really? Are all the 15 year old girls you know so well-versed in Nietzsche, Mr. King? Because I find it very hard to believe that most 15 year old girls from the suburbs of Boston are so up on their 19th century German philosophers that they'd get such an obscure joke.
All that said, the book wasn't bad. It sort of lost it's way at times, but it did hold my interest. Say what you will about King, and lord knows I have, but he's not a bad writer. He can spin an interesting yarn and keep you turning the pages. Sometimes that's all you can ask for out of a book....more
I dated Sloane Crosley for about a year and a half. Not the Sloane Crosley who wrote this book of essays; the Sloane Crosley I dated was named Tracy. I dated Sloane Crosley for about a year and a half. Not the Sloane Crosley who wrote this book of essays; the Sloane Crosley I dated was named Tracy. But, as best as I can tell having read a bushel of essays from Crosley, they are basically the same person. The surprising thing about that? It reminded me of the things I liked about my ex-girlfriend in the first place. The not so surprising thing? It reminded me of why she's my ex-girlfriend.
The things I liked about my ex-girlfriend were her caustic sense of humor and finely tuned sense of irony. She could be slyly amusing, if not outright funny, and was generally good company.
The things I didn't like about her? She was a bit of a spoiled brat and a pretty big whiner. She loved to argue and couldn't stand to be wrong, and loved to espouse views she didn't even strongly believe in just to feel superior to people she didn't particularly like. She had a fairly narrow worldview, yet still considered herself cosmopolitan. She was beautiful, but loved fishing for compliments by pretending not to know. She was annoyingly feminist when the situation suited her, then would turn around and use her femininity for an excuse if she failed at something (usual sports-related). She was very feminine, but insisted on presenting herself as something of a tomboy.
Whew...got a little carried away there. The point being, I have fond memories of my ex-girlfriend, and think she's a generally good person. But goddamn if she wasn't a spoiled little Jewish-American Princess. I get that same impression from Sloane Crosley. She's a talented writer, and the essays were each very enjoyable and spot-on in regards to their subject matter. When reading personal essays as a genre, it's important to like the writer, since you are essentially entering a guided tour of their lives, and I liked Sloane Crosley. She was affable and self-deprecating and, as a 20-something living in a major metropolitan area, I found her to be very relatable.
She's a New Yorker through and through, and that comes across in the essays as well. People from New York (or at least Manhattan) tend to see their little island as the world, and I get that. Being from the Hub of the Universe, I get a little carried away with how great my city is too. However, like her city, Crosley can get a little grating. A little cute and precious go a long way, and Crosley does a great job of wringing every last bit of it out. I think she's actually a very good female answer to David Sedaris, if not quite as adept with the pathos, in that they both can tell an engaging story about the trials and tribulations of their wacky personal lives, but, really, how many of those can you read in a given day?
To sum up, I liked the book, and loved the title, which was a very accurate portrayal of the type of essay you'd be reading. However, like her home city, it's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there....more
Tucker Max is a gigantic douchebag, yet he's strangely un-self-aware for a guy who makes his living writing outrageous lies true stories of his drunkeTucker Max is a gigantic douchebag, yet he's strangely un-self-aware for a guy who makes his living writing outrageous lies true stories of his drunken debauchery. Throughout his book of stories, Max talks about himself like he is the undisputed coolest guy in the world, and continually disparages other men in the book as tools and douchebags, unaware that he is them. Funny how that works.
Max's book is outrageous (as in almost completely untrue), misogynistic, crude, and offensive, but I'm not going to lie--I laughed out loud a lot. That doesn't mean Max is a good writer--he's not. And it doesn't mean he is a paragon of truth--he's most definitely not that. But his stories tended to be quite funny, even if they are of the sort that you'd feel better if the guy telling the story wasn't the guy that all of this purported wackiness happened to--if you have to brag about these types of conquests and hilarity, odds are it wasn't nearly as funny as you recall, or it's an outright lie. Max is constantly recalling "hilarious" things he said (which is funny, since he also spends a good portion of the book discussing how he ended up black out drunk on most of the occasions he is recalling, yet can recite dialogue verbatim?), which wears thin after awhile. The book definitely loses momentum towards the end for a number of reasons, partly due to stories like the Midland, Tx story, which is utterly pointless and devoid of humor, and clearly included just to get the book to a publishable length, and partly because you can only read so many "outrageously true" stories of Tucker Max's drunken sexual exploits.
I'm not a crusader for truth and justice in creative non-fiction. I have no horse in the race to string up James Frey. I understand that much of this type of writing is going to be at least partially embellished. However, Tucker Max pushes it to the limits of believability, and exacerbates the incredulousness of the stories by maintaining on numerous occasions that his stories are 100% true and that he is a lot of things, but most definitely not a liar. I call bullshit.
All that said, it's a very quick, light read, and some of the stories are very, very, funny in a Family Guy 'I-can't-believe-I'm-laughing-about-something-so-horrible' sort of way. You'll laugh, but, like many of Tucker Max's supposed conquests, you might not respect yourself in the morning....more
This book was an extremely difficult, if mostly rewarding, read. Taking place at an unspecified date in an unspecified location, Saramago tells the stThis book was an extremely difficult, if mostly rewarding, read. Taking place at an unspecified date in an unspecified location, Saramago tells the story of a world in which a 'white blindness' epidemic suddenly strikes, and people are struck blind without pain or warning en masse. As the white sickness spreads, society begins to break down as people are unable to cope with the sudden loss of vision and Saramago shows what a frightening place the world would be if this were to happen.
This is the first novel I've read by Saramago, and he reads like a cross between Gabriel Garcia-Marquez and Cormac McCarthy. His prose is very much of a waste-not-want-not type, but his descriptions tend to be quite succinct and beautiful. Like McCarthy, he depicts a barren wasteland in a way that seems to evoke the beauty from such a sad mess, while at the same time not mincing words in regards to the brutality and horrors that occur in such a world. His use of magical realism is evocative of Garcia-Marquez, and also the matter-of-fact manner of speaking with which the characters address one another is reminiscent of Garcia-Marquez as well.
It's a very beautifully written novel, and the story itself is incredibly thought-provoking and engrossing. That said, it's difficult to get through. Saramago writes with very little punctuation, and allows sentences to run on for lines and lines with only commas and no periods, while entire paragraphs will continue for pages and pages. I understand why Saramago did this - as a literary tool, it is very effective in making the reader feel what it must be like to suddenly be stricken blind. The chaos of the words and lack of punctuation disorients the reader a bit, and this helps to create the proper mood to reflect the feelings of the characters in the book. However, just as being struck blind suddenly would create an incredibly difficult living environment, so too does reading a book that defies the conventions of punctuation and style create an incredibly difficult exercise in reading. The book took me almost 2 months to read, and a big part of that was that I didn't want to start reading a chapter without being able to finish it, as it's a remarkably difficult book to pick up in the middle of the action, given the lack of breaks in the writing.
The other reason that the book took so long for me to finish is more simple - the subject matter, while fascinating, was not enjoyable, especially the stretch in the middle of the book that involves graphic descriptions of what was essentially prolonged gang rape. It's heavy stuff all the way through, and it's not the sort of world you want to volunteer yourself for on a beautiful fall afternoon. I suggest reading this book in the dead of winter, if possible.
Finally, without giving anything away, I thought the end of the book was a cop-out. It was as if Saramago couldn't figure out how to end the story, so he just said screw it and finished it the easiest way possible. After leading the reader into this horrific world and being so detailed and graphic, to simply end the book with no real warning was a major disappointment. I was literally reading the book and knew I had about 3 pages to go and wondered to myself, "how is it that this book is going to end in 3 pages?" And then the answer presented itself and I was extremely letdown. Anyone who sticks with the book for the full 300 or so pages deserves better....more
Timing is everything. If I'd read 'The Alchemist' four years ago, I'm sure I would have loved it. It deals in big, bold pronouncements of 'follow yourTiming is everything. If I'd read 'The Alchemist' four years ago, I'm sure I would have loved it. It deals in big, bold pronouncements of 'follow your dreams' et cetera et cetera, and it certainly makes you think about your own life and the pursuit of your own "Personal Legend" if you will. But maybe I'm older and more cynical now, or maybe it's not cynicism so much as just seeing a reality that isn't so mystical and black and white as Paulo Coelho's, but in any event, I just wasn't buying what 'The Alchemist' was selling.
It's a good, quick read, I'll give it that. I enjoyed myself, and I definitely thought a little bit about my own life in the process, which I appreciate from my literature. And while I was more or less with it for a while, I just couldn't stay on board with an ending that left me saying, "that's it? Really?" Be forewarned, there will be spoilers after this point. The whole book Santiago is in pursuit of his "Personal Legend", which he is told is a great treasure found in the pyramids of Egypt. Along the way he befriends many people and makes a great sum of money, while also meeting a beautiful young woman who agrees to more or less be his life-partner, Romeo and Juliet-style (which is stupid in and of itself, but more on that later). It is at this point that he determines he has achieved a greater treasure than any he had ever dreamed of, and would go no further. Beautiful. Cue the music and themes of recognizing treasure in all its forms. Santiago has a wonderful, fulfilling life laid out before him, and would most likely die a happy man by the side of his lovely wife and adoring children, all while living comfortably as village counselor of a beautiful desert oasis. Sounds pretty nice, no?
Well, that's where the book lost it's footing. Santiago is urged, coerced even, into continuing to follow his "Personal Legend", leaving behind his "love" (who, it should be mentioned is a "woman of the desert" and so is completely fine being abandoned by her "love" and will simply wait and wait and wait for him, whether he ever returns or not) traversing the desert and (bizarrely) evading a hostile army along the way by turning himself into the wind (it makes about as much sense as it sounds). In the end though, Coelho reveals to us that Santiago does, indeed, reach his "Personal Legend" in a two and a half page epilogue, where it is shoddily revealed that Santiago's long-sought after treasure is...treasure. Literally. Buried treasure. A box in the sand filled with gold coins and diamonds and jewelry and crowns, and all the other cliche treasure images you can think up. What the hell?
So what message are we supposed to take from this book then? Money is the most important thing in the world? Women are objects meant to be seen and valued for their beauty, there to serve you and wait around forever while you go on wild goose chases across continents in search of money?
Obviously I'm being facetious, and Coelho intended to say that one should follow their dreams no matter what, even if it transcends a nice, content life, so long as you are in pursuit of a life that would be even greater than you can ever imagine, sacrificing what is good now for what can be great later. But he did so in an extremely simplistic way, and the revelation of the Santiago's treasure being literally treasure was a major disappointment.
The thing was, despite his simplicity, the book had a nice message going for a while. If Fatima was Santiago's treasure, that I could have gotten behind, even if it shows a good deal of contempt for the role of women in relationships (beauty being the most important factor in deciding on a mate, as Santiago is struck by her beauty and immediately professes his love; Fatima more or less acquiesces immediately and pledges herself to Santiago no matter what, even if he must travel the desert forever in selfish pursuit of his own dreams, with no regard for her), because that is something intangible that is meaningful and fulfilling, regardless of financial standing. But then Coelho basically goes on to say that that is just a roadblock in the way of real achievement, and that one should selfishly pursue their own dreams with no regard for those closest to them.
How a book can go on and on talking about seeing the everyday symbols and omens in life and taking heed of them, presumably leaving metaphors for life all along the way, and then have what was presumably the biggest metaphor of them all, Santiago's treasure, turn out not to be a metaphor at all, but just money? To me, that summed up everything. I suppose Coelho realizes this, as he begins the book with a brief fable about Narcissus falling into the river because he loved staring at his reflection, and the river's disappointment in this, as the river loved gazing into Narcissus's eyes and seeing the reflection of itself. This is a horrible little story implying that everyone is obsessed only with themselves, a sad, empty little thought that Coelho spends 167 pages endorsing wholeheartedly, under the guise of following your dreams.
I understand that other people love this book and find it inspiring, and I think I would have felt the same way years ago, when I was just out of college and it appeared I had my whole life ahead of me and a lifetime to live it. I'm older now, and I've found someone who I consider to be a real treasure, and while I still have dreams, I'm not willing to sacrifice the happiness that this life brings me every day in a single-minded pursuit of something that I want for selfish reasons (fame, fortune, etc.). If I was Santiago, I would have never left Fatima in the first place if she truly made me happy, as Santiago claimed she did. Perhaps that makes me a coward in Coelho's eyes, not unlike the Crystal merchant from the story. But it'd also make me not the sad Englishman, whose single-minded pursuit of his "personal legend" had cost him all his money, friends, and family and left him alone in an oasis burning lead in a tent in the vain hopes it will turn to gold.
I guess what I'm trying to say in this long-winded review, is that this book is all about being selfish and doing what you think will make you happy, regardless of everything else. I can see why that appeals to people, especially those who want to show the doubters and find their own treasure beneath a sycamore tree, but it's sad, in a way. We live in a culture where everyone wants selfish things like fame or money or power, just to satisfy some gaping hole in their own souls, ignoring the real problems that lead to these compulsions in the first place. To me, this book feeds and even encourages that misplaced ideal, and that's a shame....more
This was an engaging graphic novel that was interesting and well-drawn, but not quite on par with the other graphic novels I've read (Watchmen andThis was an engaging graphic novel that was interesting and well-drawn, but not quite on par with the other graphic novels I've read (Watchmen and The Killing Joke), in part because, despite a novel concept, this story wasn't quite able to handle the broad scope of that idea.
This edition came with an introduction that explained the genesis for the story--what would happen if Superman was no longer relevant? The impetus behind this being, what if a desperate world called for a new breed of superhero who would be willing to cross the lines (e.g. cold-blooded murder of criminals) that Superman and his ilk simply cannot out of principle (Truth, Justice, The American Way, all that jazz). The comic itself then goes about illustrating a story wherein just such a world exists.
It's a great idea, and it's not handled poorly, per se. It's heavy-handed with it's message and metaphors, as these sorts of stories are wont to be (I mean, have you seen The Dark Knight or any of the Spiderman franchise? They may be great movies (excluding Spiderman 3, of course) but subtlety is not exactly their strongest virtue. For God's sake, The Dark Knight literally spells out the metaphor in the title of the film, then spends 2 and a half hours driving the point home, then, in the closing voiceover, literally spells out the film's obvious central metaphor in case you weren't paying attention...but I digress), but it is very cinematic and entertaining. However, things are a little clunky, and they never really smooth themselves out.
The biggest problem is the sheer plethora of characters. While no doubt a major treat for diehard comic book fans, it was a little overwhelming for someone like me, who merely dabbles in the trade. I knew the main superheroes and their powers, and I even knew a few of the less famous heroes (read: guys who haven't had their own movies...yet), such as Nightwing. However, there were a lot of heroes I just hadn't a clue about, and in the climax, when Captain Marvel becomes a major plot point, I literally had to go to Wikipedia to refresh myself on exactly why this guy was of any interest, much less able to put a hurt on Superman.
And that leads to my biggest gripe and also my greatest praise--it is, in the end, a Superman story, and Superman is, without a doubt, the most boring of all superheroes. It's what makes the idea for this graphic novel so great, and keeps it feeling fresh throughout, but in the end, there is simply nothing Superman can't do. Whatever power he needs, he's got it, and by this point they've even eliminated Kryptonite as a weakness. I admire the writers for coming up with a story that actually made the Man of Steel compelling, but in the end, he can still do almost whatever it is that needs doing--almost. That's what gives the dramatic ending a shot in the arm, that even Superman can't always save the day. Not exactly, anyway.
Some of it was still too corny for my tastes though. The religious symbolism was a bit much, and it's hard to take a character like Captain 'SHAZAM!' Marvel seriously, though they do put up a valiant effort. It's a good graphic novel, but I just don't think I'm quite the audience for it....more
Although I'm still something of a neophyte when it comes to the world of Graphic novels, I can certainly see the appeal to people of all ages.
This is Although I'm still something of a neophyte when it comes to the world of Graphic novels, I can certainly see the appeal to people of all ages.
This is the second full length graphic novel I've read, both by Alan Moore (the other being his opus, 'The Watchmen'), and both have been excellent. Both seem to re-imagine the superhero world as one with real, flawed people trying to reconcile their humanity with their jobs as protectors of the public at-large.
'The Killing Joke' picks up with the known quantities of the Batman universe and injects them with new blood. It begins with Batman realizing that his drawn out battles with the Joker are doomed to end in the demise of one or both of them, and he would like to give one final try to understanding each other, hopeless though it may be. Meanwhile, the Joker has escaped Arkham and is bent on doing the exact opposite--proving that anyone can be driven to madness under the right circumstances, using Commissioner Gordon as his test subject.
It's an interesting time to read this novel. I read it prior to seeing 'The Dark Knight', and grew up with Tim Burton's original 'Batman' as my favorite superhero movie, and it's very clear both 'Dark Knight' writer and director Christopher Nolan and Burton both read this novel as well, and it had a huge influence on the way they made their films. The difference is the way these influences were applied, and it's what makes 'The Dark Knight' far superior to Burton's 'Batman'.
Tim Burton took 'The Killing Joke' and applied it superficially to his characters, providing the Joker with the backstory of falling into a vat of chemicals after being pursued by a fledgling Batman and going insane. The subtext of the Joker was more or less lost in Jack Nicholson's enjoyable, but somewhat campy performance. He was a lovable--if still quite dangerous--trickster, but not all that frightening.
Nolan, conversely, takes the heart of Moore's story and crafts it around his own take on the characters. Subtle things, such as Heath Ledger's Joker gleefully providing many contradicting backstories to his prey, the Joker's sick enjoyment of his cat and mouse game with Batman, and of course, his almost casual employment of brutal violence, all harken back to Moore's characterization of the Joker in this novel. And while Nolan dug deeper to the heart of Moore's story, he also clearly used it as a template for the story itself, plugging Harvey Dent into Commissioner Gordon's role, while also changing the results.
In short, as seems to be the case with Alan Moore, there is a lot more going on here than meets the eye. It's also worth mentioning that Brian Bolland's art is amazing. The edition I read was restored and re-colored, and that may have had an effect, but the artwork was very sharp and crisp, with bold colors leaping off the page. The artwork complimented the story in ways that most comics rarely do, in my experience.
Finally, I just wanted to say that the ending of this book was awesome. Just awesome....more
Hype can really change the way you perceive a book. Although the buzz for 'The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao' has been steadily building since it wHype can really change the way you perceive a book. Although the buzz for 'The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao' has been steadily building since it was released almost a year ago, the book I picked up at the bookstore had a big, gold starburst attached to it reading 'WINNER - 2008 Pulitzer Prize', and had been brandished 'THE BEST BOOK I EVER READ' by no less authority than my friend Kevin right here on this very website.
It's almost not fair, the way we build up these books, or movies, or other pop-culture phenomenon as the new best thing ever, because we set up a culture of expectations to which nothing could ever live up. But, at the same time, when something strikes such a profound chord in our hearts, souls, and psyches, it's hard not to want to climb up to the mountaintops (or perhaps our laptops, rather) and let the whole world in on our discoveries. The drawback, of course, is that every person who encounters these things are expecting some sort of transcendent, perspective-altering experience, and when a merely very good or even great book or film comes along instead, we find ourselves a little let down.
Such was the case with ' The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao', a great book that I enjoyed immensely, but left my world-view more or less intact.
The book's title is a misleading, because although it does encompass the relatively brief life of a young man named Oscar, it is really about a great deal more, detailing the heritage and history of the de Leon family, from their cursed beginnings in Santo Domingo to the miseries and triumphs that followed them to the States, all the while providing a great deal of background on the history of the Dominican Republic as well, especially the horrid era of Rafael Trujillo, a dictator who ruled the island with an iron fist for over 30 years. The writing is rich and the stories engaging, and the characters have a great deal of depth.
At times, however, the book can be a bit frustrating. My biggest gripe is the extensive use of 'spanglish' throughout the novel. I don't speak much Spanish, and contextual clues can only take you so far. I do most of my reading as far from a computer as I can, which meant going online later on and trying to decipher certain words or phrases that had thrown me for a loop, often to no avail, as online translations aren't very good (for proof, I'd refer you to my grades in Spanish class in college). It's also unclear who is narrating the book until around halfway through, when I was surprised to learn that it wasn't a typical omniscient entity narrating the story, but actually a real person who all of a sudden would break into first person and become a character in the story. This bothered me, as it sort of altered my interpretation of the story up to that point and going forward.
In the end though, these are small gripes, and the book is beautiful, affecting, and heartbreaking, because we've all known someone like Oscar, who just doesn't quite fit in, but wants to so badly, but not at the expense of being himself. There's so much muted heartbreak in the character of Oscar, it's almost physically painful. Here's Oscar watching his equally nerdy friends get girlfriends while he remains alone. Here's Oscar being the intellectual whore to some horrible college girl. Here's Oscar waiting patiently with his perfectly arranged sci-fi books, the books that mean everything in the world to him, before packing them up and leaving after none of his students show up to his after-school science fiction and fantasy club. Here's Oscar wanting to die because he fears he will never be loved.
And, finally, a sliver of redemption through all the sadness, like a brief, small smile or laugh at the end of a long crying jag. You root for Oscar, just like you root for that friend in high school or college (or maybe it's you?) who you know is never going to get the girl and will always fall into the friend trap, but you still hope against hope that maybe tonight is the night everything works out for him. It's the quiet desperation of emerging manhood, and Junot Diaz perfectly captures it, and he and Oscar break your heart in doing so. ...more
You never know what you're going to get when you read a 'coming of age' book. When you get right down to it, they're often very indulgent and narcissi You never know what you're going to get when you read a 'coming of age' book. When you get right down to it, they're often very indulgent and narcissistic exercises in creative non-fiction masquerading as the experience of the typical (or atypical, as they'd want you to believe) teenager or young adult. Other times they can be very true to life and touching, if not altogether inspiring.
'Black Swan Green' sort of splits the difference between these two results. It's not a bad book, but it's not the great one it strives to be either. David Mitchell treats his protagonist, Jason Taylor, a painfully sensitive and shy young British boy with a stuttering problem, as a medium for spouting off all the lessons he learned from his own sensitive and shy young childhood. While Taylor's experiences feel mostly real, the book gets bogged down in describing the culture of being a boy on the cusp of the cusp of manhood.
The reader is meant to understand that Taylor is a precocious young boy who strives to be nothing more than completely average, going to great lengths to hide his intelligence and insight at every turn. However, either he is the most self-aware child in the history of literature, or Mitchell goes way overboard in trying to make his less-than-subtle point about the horrors of young adulthood. I lean towards the latter. Mitchell puts words in his young protagonist's mouth that, while maybe he understands on a very basic, almost instinctual level, would never be able to eloquently express. For example, in a scene where one of the local bullies offers Jason a cigarette, Jason accepts even though he doesn't smoke, while his inner monologue explains that " A middle-ranking kid like me shouldn't refuse an invitation from an older kid like Grant Burch." Maybe not, and it's entirely likely that Jason understands this on an intrinsic level, but there is not a 13 year old alive who would offer up that explanation off the cuff.
Mitchell continues to provide Jason with clever insights throughout the book, such as ' Hate smells like burnt fireworks' right before two bullies fight one another, or 'The sequence of doors we passed made me think of all the rooms of my past and my future. The hospital ward I was born in, classrooms, tents, churches, offices, hotels, museums, nursing homes, the room I'll die in. (Has it been built yet?) Cars're rooms. So are woods. Skies're ceilings. Distance're walls. Wombs're rooms made of mothers. Graves're rooms made of soil.' Really? Come on. Lovely sentiments, certainly, but unfit to be coming out the mind of a 13 year old. It betrays the realism of the character and makes you very, very aware that you're reading a book written by a man pushing 40 trying to remember what it was like to be 13.
That said, the book is not without merit. While it could afford to be about 100 pages shorter (there are entire chapters, most notably the entire bit with 'Madame Crommelynck', that could be excised without hindering the story in the least, in my opinion. I dreaded picking up the book for long stretches, mostly because I'd be entrenched in chapters full of explicitly stated pretentious introspection that was far beyond what a 13 year old can muster), there are also stretches where the book really evoked the awkwardness and pain of growing up, and that was where it was most effective. This was especially true as the book wound down and we were given more of Jason's school life, and the tortures he faced on most days. It could be difficult to read, and reminded me of just how awful middle school really was, but it also felt real in a way that much of the rest of the book did not. When Mitchell focuses on this part of Jason's life, the book can truly be considered a success.
Mitchell is a talented writer, and he so deftly handles some situations (such as Jason's home life, which he can tell is going astray, but he isn't quite sure just how far until it happens) that it actually makes you angry that he is so explicit in dealing with the thoughts and emotions of others. In the end, he's left with a decent book that drags painfully in stretches and gives too little credit to the reader, but is overall a good effort at recreating the small traumas and triumphs of the end of childhood....more
When there is a book that I'm interested in reading that I hear is going to be made into a movie, I try to do my best to read the book before that hapWhen there is a book that I'm interested in reading that I hear is going to be made into a movie, I try to do my best to read the book before that happens. The reason for this is I don't want my impression of the book to be sullied by the movie. While watching a movie and thinking to yourself, "Hey, I remember that from the book!" Or, "Huh, that wasn't in the book. Interesting," or even, "That was in the book, but they did it differently. I applaud/deplore this decision," is interesting and fun, reading a book and seeing how it plays out against a fondly remembered movie is not as enthralling for some reason.
With that in mind, I hadn't seen David Fincher's 'Fight Club' in many, many years. I saw it once on DVD when it came out, and not since. That's not to say I didn't like it, however, and although I didn't remember every little detail, I did, unfortunately, remember the film's (and, before it, the book's) big twist. To put it into perspective, imagine having someone ruin the surprise of 'The Sixth Sense' and then still sitting through the whole thing. Suddenly it becomes a little tedious. So coming into this book with that knowledge, in order to really 'wow' me, Palahniuk would have to do so with the actual words and not gimmicks.
It's a tall order, and the book was mostly up to it. It's a good read. I enjoyed it, even having known the twist. I didn't really remember the ending of the movie, though, strangely enough, and I had to say, the book's ending left me a little cold. So I went back and watched the film last night as a refresher, which is sort of a funny experience (I saw the movie, read the book and remembered stuff from the movie, then watched the movie and remembered stuff from the book). Whereas the film reveals the twist and then ramps up to a fascinating and fulfilling climax, the book seems to just run out of steam and end haphazardly; a happy little ending with a winking nod to the type of ending the book deserved.
It's a bit disappointing, because it's the sort of plot that seems to fit better on paper than film, but quite frankly, I think the film is a bit better. At worst, they're even. Palahniuk himself was quoted as saying about the finished product of the film that it actually made him a little embarrassed of the book (in the special edition DVD liner notes), and I think he's right. While no doubt a fascinating read the first time through, and a good, innovative story on its own merits, the fact of the matter is that 'Fight Club' has taken on a life of its own since publication, and that life has been embodied by the image of Brad Pitt as 'Tyler Durden'. The book itself just can't hold up the same way in the aftermath.
This edition of the book also has an interesting afterword where Palahniuk describes the 'Fight Club' phenomenon as it were, and it seems clear that he feels the whole thing has become much more than he bargained for, due in large part to the film.
All that said, it was a good book, and I will definitely be reading more Palahniuk down the road....more
I got this book as a 'gift' from my boss' boss at my old corporate job. Given that I never read the book while I was there, and I just finished readinI got this book as a 'gift' from my boss' boss at my old corporate job. Given that I never read the book while I was there, and I just finished reading a humorous book about the corporate life, I thought it might be a lark to read this book now that I've removed myself from that world. Plus, I like case-studies.
One unexpected pleasure was a little card underneath the cover which I'd forgotten about, commending me on a job well-done for some conference we'd put on. It was amusing to read that, and then to remember the dinner he took me and my colleagues out to (quite fancy, I might add) to celebrate. It was a nice gesture, one which I didn't see a whole lot of in my former life. My boss' boss gave us each a copy of this book, explaining that our company was currently 'good', but could hopefully keep working it's way to 'great', and we could be a big part of that (which was BS, but I appreciated the sentiment).
Unfortunately, the lessons in this book were mostly trite, and the information is now woefully outdated, given that multiple companies that are 'great' are now rumored to be going bankrupt. IT should only be read ironically, at this point. At least now I can say I made the effort, though, even if I never did while it could be of any practical use. I think that counts for something....more
I had a very hard time deciding whether I should give this book four stars or five. It was beautifully, if sparely, written, and the things left unsaiI had a very hard time deciding whether I should give this book four stars or five. It was beautifully, if sparely, written, and the things left unsaid in this book could fill volumes. In the end, however, I realized that if you can't decide if something is five stars or not, then that is your answer right there.
That said, the end of this book was great. I honestly choked up a little bit, which is not something I'm prone to doing. I won't go into too much detail, only to say that the sad (but inevitable) ending did provide exactly whatever it was you wanted. If you're an optimist, there was a strong glimmer of hope to be found. A pessimist might have seen nothing but despair. Seeing as how the entire book provided nothing but the latter, I chose to see the former. Perhaps a bit counter-intuitive, perhaps not, but I think that my decision makes sense in context. After all, what did the man and his son have left besides hope, faint though it was? Why would you keep struggling, day after day, if not for the hope of a better tomorrow? I think believing that things will end up 'okay' is the only way to see it.
Speaking of okay, never has that word been so loaded than in McCarthy's prose. The repetition of that word symbolized so much more than met the eye, as did so much of McCarthy's writing. I'd never read anything by him before, but it was so interesting the way he would mix in gritty, sparse prose with sudden flourishes of elegance and grace, to say nothing of the fact that he more or less abandons the use of apostrophes and quotation marks. It was very minimalist, but it suited the story. I can see why the book garnered so much praise.
Edited Note: I read this book 2 months ago, but it's stuck with me and haunted me ever since, so I've changed my final rating from a 4 to a 5....more
This book was shockingly great. It sounds like a cheesy conceit: some time in the very near future, the world is overrun by zombies. The world's respoThis book was shockingly great. It sounds like a cheesy conceit: some time in the very near future, the world is overrun by zombies. The world's response to the threat is slow and poorly executed, and it leads to a war against the living dead that lasts over a decade before order is finally restored, and even then the threat isn't completely gone.
So, you're thinking it sounds like a cheesy Dean Koontz or Stephen King-type knockoff, right? But that's not the approach Brooks takes at all. Rather than presenting the story as an unfolding narrative sequence of events, focusing in on the story from one point of view (say, a plucky farmer or G.I. who fights their way through the zombies and finally triumphs at the end, a hero), he writes the story as a journalist collecting first person accounts of the war from integral survivors from around the world. In doing so, Brooks presents a global view of the battle with surprising pathos. The first-person testimonials are almost shockingly powerful, and it's hard not to imagine yourself in their shoes.
Each account of the global war against the zombies feels disarmingly real, as does the global response to the burgeoning threat. It's all too easy to imagine governments downplaying the news of the dead rising back to life and attacking the living, and the hushed, whispered reports that would spread from around the globe. The scariest thing about this book is just how real it feels. The allegories to the bureaucracy and battlefields of warfare felt accurate, and I suddenly found myself thinking that a global zombie apocalypse might not be that far-fetched (and maybe it isn't).
The only complaint about the book I had was that it maybe dragged on about 30-40 pages too long. While Brooks does a great job of covering a potential zombie apocalypse from all angles (and he clearly put a lot of thought into every single possibility of global warfare against the undead), he maybe over-thinks things a bit. Some of the testimonials got a little redundant, and some were just plain unnecessary. It also gets a little bogged down in cutesy-allegorical acronyms for powerful war machinery and government agencies, and the technical details of some of the machinery he envisions will be necessary to fight the army of the undead. If the book could have wrapped things up a little more efficiently, it'd probably be a five star review. As it is, there are minor problems that keep it from being all it could be, but still a surprisingly excellent and powerful read....more
This book read like a Decemberist's song come to life. I can't get over the fact that Georges Simenon wrote this layered, exciting book in a shorter aThis book read like a Decemberist's song come to life. I can't get over the fact that Georges Simenon wrote this layered, exciting book in a shorter amount of time than it took me to read it. I really enjoyed it....more
This book was a little bit better than I expected going off of the title and cover art. My mother bought it for me before Christmas about 3 years ago,This book was a little bit better than I expected going off of the title and cover art. My mother bought it for me before Christmas about 3 years ago, and I was so behind on the other books I had to read at that point, I just never got around to reading it. Since I finished reading 'A Spot of Bother' right before Christmas and New Year's, I decided to pick this one up. It's just over 200 pages, so it's a quick read, and the story takes place largely over New Year's Eve, so the timing was right. There's just something so depressing about reading a book that takes place during the holidays or watching a holiday themed movie or television show out of season; if I can enjoy these during the time of year they're set, I think it's the way to go.
One thing about the book--it takes place in the early seventies. I didn't know that going in, so I was a bit confused in the early going by some of the lingo (it reads a bit like an old-fashioned noir movie sounds) and the situations (at one point the author reveals his rent is $126...in New York...that obviously didn't add up).
So, all that said, it was an okay book. A brisk read, not much too it...it was sort of like a wacky sitcom episode. The situations and the characters were a bit contrived, but the whole thing is okay if you just go with it. The ending was stupid and trite, although, I guess considering the entirety of the book, it can be forgiven....more
Punching-In is a confused book. Not confusing, mind you, merely confused. Author Alex Frankel means well, and presents a number of interesting storiesPunching-In is a confused book. Not confusing, mind you, merely confused. Author Alex Frankel means well, and presents a number of interesting stories about working the front lines at a number of interesting corporate jobs, but he just doesn't really make the greater points his conclusions would lead you to believe he did.
To start, Frankel seems to consider this book almost an expose about what makes some of the bigger retail corporations in the world tick, but his anecdotal observations don't connect any dots to create a larger picture. Instead, he takes on jobs that many of us have had or thought about having, and tells us what we pretty much assumed about them already--it's tiring to deliver packages all day, it's boring to fold clothes at the Gap, customers order some funky beverages from Starbucks, and people who work at the Apple Store really like Macs.
It's not that it's an uninteresting book, exactly, it just doesn't seem to have a larger point, despite Frankel's largely weak attempts to do so. He often will go off on tangents about the job he's working at, describing the colorful or (more often) rather bland cast of characters he works with, giving his personal feelings on the matters at hand, and from these very personal, isolated experiences (given that he's only experiencing one isolated corporate unit in the Bay area with each company) he applies broad, sweeping generalizations to the corporate culture of a company, while every now and again mixing in fairly weak academic references to somehow support his cause. It's not unlike a high school student writing a book report for a book he barely skimmed, then flipping through the pages to try and find an unrelated quote that would, on the surface, back up his thesis.
Frankel himself seems to half-heartedly acknowledge this disconnect on a few occasions, though not enough to really admit that his points are invalid as a consequence (which they are).
That said, I enjoyed reading it. I didn't love it, but it was interesting, even if it was profoundly flawed. Any book that headlines itself as "The Unauthorized Adventures..." of anything clearly sees itself as little more than a stunt or lark meant to be read for kicks rather than hard-hitting journalism, sort of the way a modern yellow journalism outfit like "A Current Affair" would "infiltrate" a store with hidden cameras to paint an unfair picture of a company as a whole. I found the characterization of his experience at Starbucks especially unfair, as he clearly walked into that job with a set of expectations (namely that Starbucks was a horrible, phony, corporate monolith of capitalism), and, despite an experience that, on the surface, appeared to bear out the opposite, took it as confirmation of his original prejudice. From what I could tell, the Apple store seemed very similar to that experience, both in terms of corporate culture and employees hired, yet he praised Apple's genuine feel(and also pointed out that he has been an avid Mac customer since the 80s) and Starbucks as a bunch of phonies. But Holden Caulfield Frankel is not, and given that his incomplete sketch of the Apple store felt rushed and vague, it was hard to take such opinions too seriously.
In the end, the book is just okay. It doesn't really have much of a point, but is the sort of book one might really get into while reading a chapter in the waiting room of a dentist's office. I guess that's all it really aspires to be anyway, but maybe that's not so bad. I don't know....more
It's funny how certain books just come along at exactly the right time in your life. I read 'Franny & Zooey' when I was right out of college and just It's funny how certain books just come along at exactly the right time in your life. I read 'Franny & Zooey' when I was right out of college and just starting my life as a post-grad in the city, and it really spoke to me. I read 'A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius' the summer before my senior year, when I was panicking about what I was going to do with the rest of my life, and it completely changed the way I looked at myself and the world around me. If I had read 'Then We Came to the End' 3 years ago, I wouldn't have understood or appreciated it as much as I do now, removed from the rat race just enough to still remember it vividly, but not so entrenched that I still harbor the same bitterness about that world.
I worked at a corporate job for just over 2 years when I was fresh out of college, and I was completely miserable doing it. The long hours, the shitty treatment from people higher up the ladder than you, the gossiping and backstabbing...it's really no way to live. And yet, even though so many of us feel this way, we still trudge to our cubicles every day and put up with the same sad song and dance day in and day out, longing for the weekends and bemoaning how quickly they pass, all while doing nothing about it, even going so far as to scoff and be incredulous about the mere prospect of making a change.
Joshua Ferris is a product of this world, but he's one of the lucky ones who found the strength to escape. His recognition of the corporate world is obvious when speaking about the universal feelings of the office worker, and his use of 1st person plural as a narrative device is the sort of gimmick that wouldn't work, or would be too precious or cute, in any other setting, but perfectly captures the tone for such an environment. By referring to each individual character in the novel on their own terms, but keeping the voice of the novel as 'we', Ferris is able to strike a perfect balance of connecting the reader to the larger picture and relating to his protagonists while also making each one feel like a real person with their own quirks and charms. Everyone knows a Benny Shassburger, the guy around the office everyone goes to to vent, or a Karen Woo, the ice queen who always seems to be right about everything. Yet the beauty of the narrative device is also connecting these individuals to the greater whole. It's easy to forget that these vibrant characters also feel the same quiet desperation as the rest of the group. It's a neat trick, and it works because a corporate office is the sort of place that fosters these common feelings among unique individuals who you never really know.
And that brings me to one of the main themes of the book (at least in my opinion), the tenuous bond we have with the people we work with. In other words, the feeling that for all the time we spend with our co-workers, we'll never really know them in any tangible way, and that, vice versa, our co-workers will know us in a way completely different (or even contrary, to) the way those close to us in our personal life will know us. For example, the totem pole that Old Brizz left to Benny, or Tom Mota's affinity for Ralph Waldo Emerson, or even Lynn Mason's much rumored battle with cancer. There are simply things about us that we don't let others see, and this book reflects that perfectly.
The end of the book was perfect as well. When you leave a workplace, you always think you'll be friends with these people forever. After all, these are the people who got you through the day, the ones whose jokes and good humor lifted your spirits when the rest of the corporate world attempted to assassinate your spirit. Then you leave, and maybe an e-mail or two is exchanged, or a drink is had after work before you completely lose touch, and, before long, you find yourself forgetting what people looked like, or unable to place the name of a person you saw every day for years. It's nobody's fault, per se; it's just what happens. People move on, they find new people to have drinks and make jokes with, different coworkers to gripe about, and new bosses to hate. This book shows that, but not in a bitter, resentful way. It just is, and Ferris acknowledges that, and the muted sadness contained in such realizations.
The book was not without its flaws, of course. There were parts that could be conceived as a little preachy or pretentious, some elements that might seem a little too fantastic for the real world. But these are minor gripes, and overall, Ferris handles it all with subtlety and aplomb. 'Then We Came to the End' is a great book that avoids (and even acknowledges, via Hank Neary towards the end) the pitfalls that can easily accompany such a novel. Required reading for anyone who has ever endured corporate life. ...more
**spoiler alert** It's funny the way Goodreads can affect your reading of a book. When I started reading this book, I immediately enjoyed it and thoug**spoiler alert** It's funny the way Goodreads can affect your reading of a book. When I started reading this book, I immediately enjoyed it and thought to myself, "Do I have a five star new classic on my hands?" Then, as the story progressed and began to lose a little steam, I thought, "Well, maybe not five stars, but it's still a solid four star story." And I was feeling that way until about halfway through the book, where it rapidly devolved into three star territory, then two, before finally culminating in a one star finish that left me thinking, in all honesty, with about 3 pages to go, "Maybe I should just scrap the book right here and now? I'm not sure I can get through even three more pages of this crap."
However, that seemed to me too much like dropping out of college 3 credits shy of graduating, so I stuck it out. It was sort of a moral victory, I guess.
The biggest problem with the book is that it completely falls apart as soon as the main character (the atrociously named Dwight Wilmerding) leaves New York. While in New York, Dwight is the everyman aimless 20-something, making sad but relevant observations on his life that hit a little too close to home. It's easy to relate to an indecisive young guy living with his equally aimless roommates surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the big city, which he understandably mistakes for his own forward momentum, one of the book's best observations.
However, he takes off to Ecuador and the book just stops making sense. Suddenly it's about 'democratic socialism' and the plight of the worker in the 3rd world, and while it seems somewhat tongue-in-cheek, the joke goes on far too long, to the point that you begin to wonder if it's a joke at all. If it is a joke, it's not funny. If it's an attempt at serious social consciousness, it's half-assed. Kunkel hit that not-so-sweet spot of muddled messages.
The second act's problems, in turn, point out those of the first act's. The shallowness of the "deep" observations in Ecuador renders the depth of the shallow observations in New York for what they are--a spoiled brat whining about his privledged upbringing. The supporting characters, always paper-thin caricatures resembling people you know, become less forgivable as the story becomes more and more flawed on the whole. When you're making a connection with the reader, it's kind of okay to have such shallow characters; they are there mainly to serve their purpose anyway, connecting smaller pieces to the greater whole. However, when you're alienating the reader with your absurd fantastical ideas in foreign countries, such shallowness is less acceptable, and, frankly, downright deplorable.
Other problems with this book, in no particular order:
-The bizarre incest subplot. What was that all about? It didn't really seem to serve a purpose, other than to be creepy and uncomfortable. I don't have a sister, so I don't know how real that felt, but it was definitely not cool.
-The half-assed 9/11 reference. That was just unnecessary and, to be totally honest, a bit embarrassing. I understand what Kunkel was trying to do, but he failed miserably. Trying to link his main character's aimless plight with the magnitude of such a catastrophic world event in his own backyard may have seemed like a good idea at the time, but he should have refrained. It made the whole story for smaller and more contrived, kind of like the way Michael Bay made 'Pearl Harbor' into some fake half-assed love story. That's basically what Kunkel did to 9/11 with his pointless reference. It just didn't work. Just because you set your story in New York doesn't mean you're obligated to make some sort of note about 9/11.
-The unsurprising 'It was never the drugs, it was in YOU all along!' reveal that abulinix was a placebo. No kidding. You almost wish it wasn't, because at least that wouldn't have been such a cop out. The only surprise is that Kunkel would stoop to such a hacky cliche; although, given the 9/11 chapter, maybe it's not that surprising after all.
-The whole 'Brigid is actually Alice's friend and the whole thing was a setup' "twist". Equally hacky, and not all that surprising, but still insulting nonetheless. Kunkel packing in subplots like this in a story that he's purporting to be a 'coming of age' -type novel just shows either a complete lack of understanding of or total contempt for his audience.
-The ending. Just piss poor and seemingly just slapped together. The reunion scene was bad enough (these are supposed to be people in their late 20s and early 30s? They struck me as a middle school cafeteria right before recess), but it again goes to the whole fake social conscience of the story. All along Dwight was really buying what he was selling about democratic socialism? Color me surprised. The whole thing seemed like a lame joke. Now he's living in South America away from the girl who inspired him and pursuing the fight against the plight of migrant workers? Really? That just didn't make sense for the character. Kunkel can't just string us along with this joke, and then say "SURPRISE! He was serious all along!" That's bullshit. It's manufactured growth of a character that didn't earn it.
All that said, I gave it 2 stars instead of the one it probably deserved if only for the first quarter or so of the book, before it completely unraveled. There were some interesting lines and observations that made me think a little more about life in general, and that's worth something, even if the book as a whole is not....more
There was a part of me that really, really, really wanted to give this book 4 stars because of the way it made me think about life and consider and reThere was a part of me that really, really, really wanted to give this book 4 stars because of the way it made me think about life and consider and reconsider my own notions about the meaning we make in our worlds. It contained some really interested ideas regarding the philosophy of absurdism, which I would best describe as something of a happy medium between existentialism and nihilism, though I understand Camus himself might consider it nihilism's polar opposite.
That said, I can't say I really liked it. There were some interesting ideas eloquently described, but Camus gets a little too bogged down in his own verbosity. Perhaps I'm shattering the windows of my own glass house when I say this, but his writing just seemed a bit too showy for me. It seemed as if he had things to say, very interesting, thought-provoking things to say, but he would rather dance around them with flowery language and arcane examples rather than just come out with them. In short, while I really enjoyed the ideas in this book, I simply can't say that I enjoyed this book. Camus had enough interesting sentiments to keep me going, but it definitely got to the point where it became a chore to read. When you find yourself questioning whether you should read the book you brought onto the T or the 'Metro', you know it's maybe not the most enthralling book....more
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